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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27383899">Let Me Adore You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragdolly/pseuds/Ragdolly'>Ragdolly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And Jaskier, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Geralt likes baths, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Just boys being soft, M/M, Pre-Slash, i guess could be read as pre slash, just so sweeet, so soft, soft, up to you</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:14:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,894</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27383899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragdolly/pseuds/Ragdolly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier sprawls across his own adjacent bed, a bare foot hanging off and head stuck in one of his note books. The one for his poems, he notes, rather than the book he has for his songs. </p><p>Geralt doesn’t remember when he learnt the difference. </p><p>- </p><p>Boys being soft, very soft boys.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Let Me Adore You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was watching LOTR and I was like oh Legolas’s hair would be good for Geralt bc it’s never out of place and then I was like ok i’ll write something and it turned into this soft and mushy thing with only one like about the hair do... oh well.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There are times, though they come rarely, that Jaskier is quiet. He talks enough for the both of them, and more, and if he’s not talking he’s singing, or humming, or sighing, or whistling and so forth. It was something that took a great deal of getting used to, many a year went by before his chatter became background noise rather than an incessant headache. </p><p>Geralt has found, as with most things to do with Jaskier, it’s easier to sink into it and let it happen rather than fight it. He might even say he enjoys it, knows Jaskier doesn’t expect him to be listening, though he always is, doesn’t expect answers. </p><p>As the moment stands they are in an inn, much the same as the previous inns they’ve stopped in, and he’d wager the same as the ones they have yet to see. Geralt is sat on his bed by the door, readying his swords for a simple contract while Jaskier sprawls across his own adjacent bed, a bare foot hanging off and head stuck in one of his note books. The one for his poems, he notes, rather than the book he has for his songs. </p><p>Geralt doesn’t remember when he learnt the difference. </p><p>His bard is quiet, that is by bard standards, humming on occasion and accompanied by the dip, tap and scratch of his quill. His hair is curled and damp from the steam of the bath, hanging over long thick eyelashes attached to flickering eyelids. Jaskier stops a moment, ponders the contents of his page then shuts his book with an air of triumphant. He looks over to Geralt as he stows it under his pillow before sitting up, sleep shirt falling down low on his chest. </p><p>“So, dear Witcher, when can I expect you back?” </p><p>“Later.” He stands, gathering his potions bag from the small table and placing his swords upon his back. </p><p>“How predictably vague of you.” Jaskier says, picking up his lute from the foot of his bed and sinking back down into his pillows. </p><p>Geralt’s grunts, as is expected and turns to the door. “Don’t get us kicked out for playing too loud too late again.” </p><p>“One time!” Comes the petulant call through the door as he shuts it behind him, allowing himself a small smile unseen before turning down the corridor. </p><p>One time indeed.</p><p> </p><p>When Geralt returns, bruised and tired but thankfully not covered in guts, it is admittedly later than his originally intended Later. Dawn is a few hours off yet, the corridor up to their room quiet and the heartbeats beyond each doorway still steady with sleep. He pushes the door open, gentle as he’s capable of so as not to wake the bard inside. The moon, though not full, peers through the window directly onto Jaskier where he is sat in a wooden chair pulled up to the window looking down on the street obviously having been waiting for his return. His head is bent awkwardly so as the rest on the wall beside him, arms slack in his lap and one leg bent up beneath him. It can’t be comfortable and yet he’s deeply asleep, not even aware of the witcher standing over him. Geralt sighs, removing his armour and swords and thinking how best to rouse him. </p><p>Whispering “Jaskier.” gets no reaction, so Geralt runs his hand over his hair, coming to rest at his cheek which he so very lightly taps. “Jask?” </p><p>The smooth space of his brow furrows, nose twitching to meet it as a small hum escapes the bard's throat. </p><p>“You’ll complain tomorrow if you stay like this.” He tries again, a bit louder but Jaskier doesn't react, only whimpers quietly turning his head more into the wall. </p><p>Seeing no other option, and wanting to get swiftly to his own bed, Geralt coaxed the leg bent underneath the sleeping man out and down to the floor before shifting one arm under both knees. The other he works down the back of the chair to grip the bard round the middle, standing up with him still sleep limp in his hold to move him to his own bed. </p><p>The movement seems to wake him a bit, enough to squint up at the witcher and slur out a small “Geralt?” as he lays him down on the bed, taking time to tuck his bare feet under the bedsheet. </p><p>“Back from a hunt and yet it’s me taking care of you bard.” He says though not without a fondness he doesn’t think too much about. </p><p>“Sorry i’ll …” the sentence trails off, sleep taking him once more and the room falls still again save for his steady breathing</p><p>Geralt sits on his own bed and allows himself to look upon the bard now quiet as he so rarely is, moonlight caressing his cheeks in the same way he thinks about doing as well, but decides not to disturb him more. Laying his head on his pillow Geralt falls into his own slumber, eyes falling to the pulse in Jaskiers neck before closing completely. </p><p> </p><p>When morning breaks Geralt comes awake to see the bard once again sat upon the chair by the window, though this time fully dressed in one of his colourful get ups, doublet hanging over the back and shirt not tied all the way. He is bent over the witcher’s armour which was muddy from the hunt in the woods last night, but is now cleaning up like new as Jaskier runs a rag of soap and water over it carefully and familiarly. He watched him work for a minute before rising up to grab a pitcher of water off the table beside him. </p><p>“So the wolf stirs from his slumber at last! I was beginning to think it would be me shoving you awake this time Geralt, I was looking forward to giving you a taste of what I get each morning!” Jaskier mock pouts, eyes lifting up from under his fringe to look at him before going back to cleaning. </p><p>“Wouldn’t happen if you woke when I told you.” He reaches for the plate of breakfast which he eats absently, already thinking of the day of travel ahead of them. </p><p>Jaskier sets the clean armour beside where he’s sat with a ‘ta-da’ and then points out the dried mud in Geralt's hair. </p><p>“I think you need a bath before we go anywhere today dear fellow, did you actually fight anything or did you roll around in the dirt all night?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, already turning to look for his bag of bath salts and various other unnecessary things Jaskier sees fit to carry with him. </p><p>“Hm.” </p><p>“And you said yesterday that we won’t be staying in an inn again for a bit so you should take the opportunity now while it’s before you!” Geralt hears him clicking the bottles around taking a sniff from some before shaking his head and putting them back. Geralt looks at the way the shirt hugs the bard's shoulders, much broader than most people think upon first glance. Jaskier is actually very similar in build to Geralt, though less obviously muscled and more hidden strength in his back and legs. </p><p>Jaskier seems to find the bath scent he’s after, spinning on his knees to hold it under Geralt's nose. </p><p>“Okay?” </p><p>It smells of citrus and wood and floral, faint enough that it doesn’t upset his senses but still pleasant. It isn’t one he's smelt before, usually Jaskier uses lavender because he claims it has calming properties or whatever. </p><p>“I ran out of the lavender we usually use so I got this one from a herbalist back in the last village. I’ll go ask for some water to be brought up.” He shoves the bottle at him, standing up and grabbing the empty breakfast tray as he goes. </p><p> </p><p>Bath time for Geralt usually involves himself in said bath, with Jaskier either washing his hair or simply sat beside him on a still to keep talking. Today, he's behind him, gently tugging the elastic from the witcher hair before telling him to dunk. Thankfully there isn’t anything more to wash off than a bit of flaky dirt and so the water stays more or less clean as he lets the bard do as he will. He’s expecting some form of one sided conversation to take place but he’s simply humming to himself as he cards the special oils through Geralt's hair, gently tugging free the knots and tangles. </p><p>“You know if I braided your hair at the sides and over the top you wouldn’t have to worry about it coming out during a hunt.” </p><p>Geralt grunts; he doesn’t like a delicate braidwill hold better than just tugging it back like he does but Jaskiers hands in his hair is helping his headache from too little sleep so he says “Do as you will.” </p><p>Said hands and calloused fingers start digging into his shoulder, trying to shift the stubborn pain that resides there. The muscle pain barely registers to Geralt now after decades on the path, each new ache and sting and bruise is just the price he pays for being what he is. Yet, alongside being his bard and very best friend, Jaskier has appointed himself as a master masseur. </p><p>He goes from his shoulders to the top of his back, sweeping up his neck and back down over and over and before long Gerlats head is heavy weight on the side of the tub, eyes closed and content to listen to the bard humming. </p><p>He allows himself to be relaxed with Jaskier in a way he hasn’t in a long time, allowing the bard to work his way under his skin so much so that the days without him feel wrong. He thinks of how much he’d despised his presence back then and then about how much he hates not hearing his steady heartbeat close now. How soft he’s gone, if the other Witchers could see him now. </p><p>Geralt huffs a small laugh at the thought and the fingers tracing his brow bone come to rest at his temples, tracing soft circles there. </p><p>“And what’s so funny, Witcher?” </p><p>He opens his eyes, finding blue watching him fondly.</p><p>“I miss you when you’re gone.” Fingers follow his jawline, up his cheeks and under his eyes and Geralt watches the skin around Jaskier’s mouth crease as he smiles down at him. </p><p>“Good thing i’m never gone.” </p><p>“Hm.” Good thing indeed. </p><p>“Come on, we better be getting off if we’re to find a quiet spot to rest tonight. Roach is probably becoming impatient.” </p><p> </p><p>Geralt steps out onto the path out of town on foot, Roach's reins in hand and Jaskier at his side. His hair is braided over the top, with two small ones behind each ear and he thinks idly about camping somewhere with flowers so the bard can weave them in..</p><p>The sun is shining overhead, rays filtered between the trees and catching the faint freckles along Jaskier’s nose. He’s looking up, one hand over his eyes, the other holding the strap of his lute. It’s quiet, besides the sounds of nature and their footsteps…</p><p>Yes, it’s quiet, but Geralt finds himself waiting eagerly for Jaskier to open his mouth and start singing. </p><p>Haha good is a quiet bard anyway?</p>
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